


Hope in a Hopeless Place

by KittyAugust (KittyAug)



Series: Marvel 616 and MCU Ficlets [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Steve Rogers, Come as Lube, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4969642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't what it was, but it's close enough. It'll have to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope in a Hopeless Place

Steve’s back hits the wall hard, he can hear the brick fracture from the impact, even over the sound of his breath leaving him. Not huge, nothing that’s going to bring the old restaurant behind them down in dust, but enough. Enough that you know this isn’t two Brooklyn boys having a tussell. This is two super-soldiers going hard, maybe a little too hard.

Bucky pins him, flesh on one side and metal on the other, both equally inescapable. Steve gasps in lungfuls of cold New York air, still polluted but it tastes different now. Steel, glass and chemicals instead of humanity, brick and coal. When Steve looks into Bucky’s eyes he’s still not sure who it is looking back. They’ve been dancing this old dance for weeks, but he’s still not sure. Maybe he’ll never be sure again. And maybe it doesn’t matter.

The first time Bucky did this, Steve thinks it was meant to scare him. Make him stop following, but if that was what Bucky wanted he played the wrong hand. Steve’s heart beats a hot, all too familiar tattoo against his ribs. Fear, anger, and anticipation all lit under his skin when Bucky presses in this close. A fire of wanting and desperation that Bucky somehow stokes into this heady conflagration when they touch. Part fight, part sex, part something altogether else.

Bucky kisses him hard, it’s always a little too hard these days, a little too fast. It’s never going to be enough, it never was then and it really never will be now. It’s all teeth and desire, soft, precious lips put to deadly use. Just another weapon, and Steve wishes he hadn’t thought it. He kisses back anyway, maybe more so, he never did know when to back down from a fight. Bucky’s tongue on his, demanding and sure, it’s everything he’s ever wanted and nothing like it.

Bucky’s flesh and blood hand finds it’s way to Steve’s skin, shoved up under his tee-shirt, air cooled skin on fever hot flesh. Steve can’t help rolling up into the contact, can’t help the needy desperate way he presses back. Bucky takes it all wrong and all right, like he always does. He rolls with Steve, rolls their bodies together in a hot and heavy press of perfect friction. They meet in this place between hope and loss and right now, right here, it’s gotta be enough.

Steve grabs Bucky’s hips and pulls him closer, pushes back against him. Uses his lover’s body, like some kid rubbing off. Except it’s not like that. It never was and it isn’t now. Bucky’s warm. And real. And he pushes back, he plays into it. And he’s as hard as Steve is, he wants Steve back like he maybe always did. They’re still kissing, still moving, still close enough to kill. Bucky’s steel and vibranium fingers are leaving little dug out dents on the brick wall and his real hand is leaving matching bruises on Steve’s serum enhanced skin. They’ll fade and that hurts worse than the impact ever could.

Steve whimpers, a wounded wanting little noise, when the next roll of their bodies brings him that little bit closer. So good it hurts, denim and cotton and steel pressing on his lust hard skin. It’s too much, and never enough.

“Shh,” Bucky says, soft and warm over Steve’s lips. It’s the closest Bucky’s come to speaking to him in days, and that makes him want to sob in a whole other way.

Then the only thing holding him up is Bucky’s weight against him, because both hands are on his belt. Metal and skin working in tandem to get his belt open and his pants undone. Steve watches the movement, watches the frantic edge of the human hand versus the precision of the metal one. He wonders for one deranged little moment what the metal will feel like on him, or inside him. Wonders if Bucky would ever do that and if he did would it be faith or frustration that brought it on. Would he do it the way he kissed Steve the first time, as a threat, or would he do it the way he fell to his knees in a Brooklyn apartment 90 year ago, like an act of worship.

Steve really could sob when Bucky gets skin on his dick. They’re not really kissing anymore. Just breathing close. The metal hand doesn’t go any closer to him than it has to. Steve wonders how much Bucky can feel in it, wonders if Bucky wants to see it on Steve’s skin as much as Steve kind of wants to. Then Bucky squeezes him, rolls his wrist and all Steve can think about is how much he wants him. How much he wants this and so much more. And how damn good it feels. How damn good it always felt.

Bucky is watching him, eyes open, alert. Steve remembers how to move, stops getting lost in the aching roll of bliss and slight scratch of pain that follows Bucky’s hand on his cock. Remembers that he’s got Bucky here, now and he’s allowed to touch, however short and not enough it might be. He gets out of his head and into Bucky’s pants. Steve suspects the jeans Bucky is wearing are actually Steve’s, so he doesn’t bother with precision or care, he uses one hand to just rip the button clean off. The broken huff or air that comes out of Bucky is so close to a laugh that Steve’s heart could sing. But then Bucky flicks his wrist again, like he can see Steve getting away from the point, and a shiver of heat washes through Steve’s whole body. They’re so humanly close, so near to perfect. It hurts. They’re kissing again, and that’s got to be Bucky. Demanding, insistent, distracting.

He’s always loved the weight of Bucky’s cock, satin smooth and blood heavy, lust hot in his hand. Loved the way Bucky reacts, still does too, hips moving in an erratic little jerk, unbidden and so goddamn perfect.

It’s rough, and hot, and too dry, and too fucking right. Their bodies meet again, like gravity, like magnetic attraction, like fate. Bucky’s so intent, so focused, it’s Steve that gets a hand on both of them though. They move together trapped in lost minutes of fear and lust. Kiss, breathe, almost moan, rub and roll. Steve can feel the way Bucky is breathing, faster, ragged with the aching truth of it. It brings Steve closer too.  He’s never wanted anything the way he wants Bucky. It’s so good it hurts, a tension building in his bones. Bedded down in the marrow, a fevered need that rises up inside him. It builds with every rolling flick of wrist, it fills the arching, writhing rhythm of their bodies. A pressure, an inexorably erotic fire that he just can’t fight. Could never goddamn fight this. Bucky bites him, bites his lip, it’s hard and sharp and new. A shot of pain spiking through the pleasure heat of him. It’s that that brings him off. It’s that bite of new that pulls his orgasm out of him with a bitten off cry, a sound so close to ‘Bucky’ that he thinks he’s broken it, broken the spell.

He really thinks Bucky might stop. Might run. But he doesn’t. He leans in, lips next to Steve’s ear, like a threat.

“I got you, sweetheart.”

Steve stops breathing, even though he needs air, needs to recover from the way that orgasm punched through him like a knockout. Bucky lets Steve keep touching him. Even moves into it. He lets Steve slick him over with his cum. He bites Steve’s ear, doesn’t move away. Doesn’t run. Steve gasps, his lungs working again, his heart shuddering into action fast and unpredictable.

That was Bucky. Not some Hydra weapon wearing Bucky’s face… for the first time in months he’s certain. Then Bucky moves, nudges at him, in an old long familiar way. An unspoken question that Steve never could learn to refuse.

And Steve is so shocked, so achingly needy, that it’s Steve who’s struck dumb for once. He just nods. Bucky sees it, or feels it, or doesn’t care. Because then he’s all rush of movement again, lunging forward. He slips out of Steve’s grip and Steve just presses himself back into the wall, palms flat on rough brick. He makes room, like he always has. Never outside. Never like this. But so close it’s bittersweet. Does Bucky know? Does he know it’s safer now, or does he just not care? Steve lets Buck get him half-way out of his jeans then wraps one leg around Bucky’s thigh. Bracing them both.

Bucky doesn’t wait. He doesn’t have to. Not for the first time Steve wonders if he would, even if he did. Steve’s growing hard again just from the thought of it. Just from knowing what’s about to come. And he wants to test that out. He wants to spend all night in a real bed just testing how far and how long they can each take each other. He wants it so bad it hurts. Wants to hold on to Bucky and never let go. Bucky’s flesh and blood hand is on the back of Steve’s neck, holding them close together, breathing near, lip to lip but kiss broken as he guides himself closer.

Bucky uses Steve’s cum to ease the way, and fuck that’s hotter than it should be. This is the furthest, the closest, Bucky has taken this new fight and fuck thing they’ve got. Steve’s almost shocked when he does it, maybe literally, it sparks through him. Electric fire in his veins when Bucky finally presses into him, breaches his body, closer than close. It’s everything. Every nerve wakes up all at once. He can never get enough but maybe, just maybe this is close. Deeper, deeper, god just a little more. There is one second of fractured tension where they both freeze, their eyes meet. Steve is so close to saying something, maybe please. Then Bucky kisses him again, even harder than before, even more furious. Like he can make this all make sense if he just forces it out of Steve somehow. He plunges up and in and Steve thinks he’ll break on how good it feels.

Steve pushes back, and he’s not sure when or how something this sweet became a fight again but it has. A fight for more. Just a little more. Just a little longer. Just a little closer. God please.

Bucky fucks him like he never had before. Harsh and rough, and dream deep. Snap and thrust and perfect, blissful, break apart stretch. Steve feels it this time as well as hears it, they hit the wall so hard it cracks, mortar shaken loose. Like the mortar in Steve’s bones. They both slam back as Bucky slams home, and there’s another ocean of hot bliss running through him. Ruthless, and brutal, and raw. Like some kind of twisted, body built honesty. He can’t fight it, won’t fight it, but he’ll fight for it. Steve comes again, with another broken sob, another stab of rapture, another tsunami of feeling, another wreck of bodily panic and corporeal bliss. A moment of pleasure in freefall. Almost freedom. Bucky buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, soft little biting kisses all at odds with the furious pace of his body. Steve really thinks he’ll break apart on this. Fall to pieces with Bucky’s skin inside him. What a way to go.

Just when Steve thinks he can’t take another moment, just when he thinks he’ll never be able to let go again. Just when it’s almost too much, Bucky shudders to a halt. Steve still wants to hold him forever, he feels it, feels the shuddering twitch and hot seed spill inside him. Feels the way Bucky comes to a stop and holds it, balances for one sweet moment on that glorious edge. Steve pulls him in closer, just one moment longer. Bucky falls forward, catches himself on the wall behind Steve. Metal and mortar chipping together. He’s blood warm and real in Steve’s arms. Steve gives in and kisses Bucky’s neck, soft and sweet and in love and not what this is meant to be. Not when they’re still hunting each other all over the world. But maybe this is it. Maybe this is finally enough.

Steve wraps himself around Bucky. Doesn’t let go even though he should. Revels in the feeling of Bucky’s lungs expanding, gasping back to reality. He’s got a hand in Bucky’s hair and he’s not even sure when that happened but now he’s petting him, it’s soft like it should be but too long. It makes his heart hurt. But Bucky still hasn’t run. He’s still breathing, warm and a little damp into Steve’s neck. If Steve wasn’t bracing them both they’d fall to the ground. Bucky’s boneless, hardly holding himself upright. Only really holding himself close to Steve. It’s a spell. It’s magic. And it’ll break apart any moment. It won’t last. It never lasts. But right now, when they’re both breathing hard, and as close as any two humans can get- well it’s enough. It’ll have to be.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first time writing full on Stucky. I hope it works! Comments and kudos are love - so please let me know what you think.
> 
> I have a tumblr - [kittyaugust.tumblr.com](http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This was a tumblr prompt for "angry, rough wall sex" - idk what happened, sorry!


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